What Might Have Been
by samantha.m.ramsay
Summary: Julian Bashir still has unresolved issues surrounding his genetic enhancements. Can an orb experience help him sort them out? Feedback is always appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Deep Space Nine or any of it's stuff.

**Reviews are always appreciated. **If you liked it, I'd love to know why. If you didn't like it, I'd love to know why.

Julian hated this part of the conference. The last panel of the morning had just finished, and it was at least an hour and a half until anything else was scheduled to begin. The break time was designed to give participants enough time to eat, socialize, and prepare for the next presentation, but Julian soon found himself bored. It really didn't take more than twenty minutes to eat, and he had no need to prepare for the upcoming lecture on Corellian fever, having memorized the information the night before. All that was left to do was socialize. Julian sighed.

Even at the best of times, he'd never been very good with people. No matter how good his intentions may have been, he always managed to find a way to make a fool of himself. He was much better now than he'd been in his first years out of the academy, but now he was facing a whole new set of problems.

After his genetic status had been revealed two and a half years ago, he'd been a little nervous about interacting with new people – especially new people from Starfleet Medical. He had soon learned that many individuals had no problems with his genetic status as long as the conversation stayed away from the topic, and had once again grown comfortable interacting with strangers. Starfleet Medical, however, was a completely different story. These people were doctors. They knew what had been done to him, and what he could do, and they seemed to have a harder time moving past it than those who had taken other career paths.

He'd tried several times to strike up conversations with his fellow doctors, and each time the other person had left the conversation at the nearest possible opportunity. It was polite, of course – they were always polite – but it was obvious that he made them uncomfortable. If it had just been the conversations, he may have been able to ignore it. He really was a bit socially awkward, after all. But he had enhanced hearing and enhanced vision, and was easily able to catch the glances and whispers sent his way. Most of it was the sort of harmless but vaguely offensive gossip one would expect in such a situation, but there were also some people – and no small minority, either – who threw him poorly-concealed looks of hatred and words of violence. These were the people who muttered words like "Augment" under their breath, knowing full well that his genetically enhanced ears could pick up every syllable.

He soon gave up trying to interact with others at the conference unless it was required on a professional level, and simply settled down in a corner to read until the presentations resumed.

As he boarded the shuttlecraft back to Deep Space Nine, he reflected on the conference. It really had been very informative. He'd learned a lot about xenophysiology, and believed that his presentation had been just as informative to his colleagues as theirs had been to him. Still, although he was grateful for the information on bacteria and blood compositions, he felt that he had received too much expertise in some areas.

He'd had his fill of lessons in ignoring people – the sideways glances, the judgemental remarks which always managed to be just within earshot – no, he'd learned far too much about these things. Starfleet officially had a strict no-discrimination policy, but it was not really surprising that they turned a blind eye to this – how could they not? The sentiments had been written in stone and law for hundreds of years, and his status as an "exception" only exempted him from the legal aspect of this prejudice.

The worst part of all, though – more than the subtle and perhaps unintentional hostility from his colleagues – was his fears that they might be right.

He'd always been surprised at the twist of fate that allowed him to continue serving in Starfleet. He'd been completely prepared to quit his job and allow life to take him where it pleased. After all, his very existence was against the law. However much he may disagree with Federation policy, he knew what that policy was, what it meant, and why it was in place. Once the truth about his genetic background was revealed, his friends on DS9 had adjusted fairly quickly – they knew who he was, and didn't see him as a threat. Evidently, Starfleet saw things the same way, or else they never would have allowed him to stay as a doctor. When it came down to it, he supposed he had it easy – neither his friends nor his government had done anything against him. It was only when he was around strangers – people who knew what he was, but not who – that he saw the fear and hostility he knew he himself harboured somewhere in his own heart.

It was evening when he got back to the station, and Ezri was there waiting to take him to supper. Truth be told, he would have preferred to be in his own quarters relaxing, but he accepted the invitation. As a counsellor, she knew when something was wrong and he had no doubt that she would stop at nothing to figure out just what it was. Hiding any sort of emotional disturbance from her would be an exercise in futility.

But that wouldn't stop him from trying.

"Really, Ezri, the conference was wonderful. The panel on Vulcan-Romulan divergence was quite informative."

"I'm sure it was." Ezri sighed and took a sip of her tea. "But I'm not worried about the panels, I'm worried about you. You may be able to keep secrets, but you're awful at hiding your emotions".

"It's nothing, really," He sighed. "It's just that going to these conferences was so much easier three years ago, back before…"

"Before your genetic status was revealed." Ezri filled in the gap for him. "Julian, have you ever considered talking to a counsellor about this? You obviously have unresolved issues about your enhancements."

Truthfully, he had considered it. Many times. But every time he tried to go see someone and talk about his feelings he hit a dead end. Counselling had never been particularly effective for him to begin with – he knew too much about it – and he was so used to hiding his genetic status that even now he had a hard time speaking openly about it. At first, after the secret had been discovered, he tried to force himself to talk about it, to make himself and his colleagues more comfortable with the whole situation. Eventually, he had given up and settled into the habit of using his abilities, but not talking about them.

He realised Ezri was still waiting for an answer. "Counselling doesn't work very well on me, I'm afraid. You know that better than anyone."

She nodded, frowning. "I guess you're right." They both sat in silence for a while, nursing their teas and staring into their own thoughts, before she spoke again. "Maybe there's another option."


	2. Chapter 2

Julian had never had an orb experience before. He was always a little more cautious about the orbs than the others were, not liking the way they defied any attempt at explanation. Still, he had to admit to a certain level of professional curiosity about them, blending with the trepidation he felt as he approached the entrance to the Bajoran temple.

It was late now, and most of the visitors to the shrine had gone to bed, but there was still a Vedek in the building, keeping a watchful eye on the Orb of Contemplation. One of the original nine orbs, it was said to provide insight and perspective on life and the path one had taken through it. Ezri had suggested that he visit the orb, in the hopes that it could provide him with the insight and healing which a counsellor could not give.

"I'm here to see the orb."

The Vedek – an elderly gentleman Julian had seen once or twice in the infirmary – nodded sagely and led him to the ornately carved box in the back of the room. Julian knelt before the box, unsure whether or not to hope that his genetically enhanced brain would be somehow immune to the effects of the orb. He knew that he should hope it worked, and that his strange reluctance to go through with the experience only increased the importance of doing it, but he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.

He watched closely as the Vedek opened the doors of the box, revealing the beautiful blue-green orb within. He had just enough time to wonder why it was called an 'orb' – it was really more of an hourglass shape – before he felt his consciousness being pulled somewhere else and his awareness of the temple dimmed, flickered, and went out completely.

When his consciousness once again coalesced into a tangible experience, he became aware of the strangest sensations. He was himself, but he was also outside himself, watching and experiencing at the same time. He was in his quarters, readying himself to go to Sisko's office and announce his resignation from Starfleet – completely ignorant of any future events. He was also watching himself do this, knowing and remembering the deal between his father and Starfleet, and also aware that the 'other him' did not know this. It was a most peculiar feeling, and one which he was not sure an ordinary human brain could handle. _Vulcans could probably deal with it, though_, he reflected, watching himself leave his quarters and head to a turbolift. _They have fascinating brains._

Brains. Suddenly, he realised that he'd lost contact with his own body's brain. He was aware of himself in this – _whatever _this was – and he was aware of the body the 'other' Julian possessed, but he had no connection with the body he knew must still be kneeling before the Bajoran orb. It was unsettling. He was so used to having a connection to his body and brain – even when he was asleep – that it made him very nervous to know that he could not force himself awake from this until the experience had run its course. He was at the mercy of the wormhole aliens, or the Prophets, or perhaps simply the whims of the orb itself.

He was also at the mercy of Starfleet. He entered Sisko's office carefully, trying to figure out how to bring up the topic at hand. His commanding officer looked at him expectantly, and Julian found himself stammering as he searched for the right words.

"Sir, um, I, um." He fumbled, pulling out the PADD which contained his resignation papers.

Sisko looked impatient. "Doctor, is there a point to this visit?"

"Yes, Sir." He looked down, deciding to say nothing at all as he handed over the PADD.

Sisko's demeanor changed noticeably as he read over the document. His brusque irritation at having his morning routine disrupted turned into a serious contemplation, and then to a resignation which echoed Julian's own.

"Well," He finally said, "I guess I don't have much of a choice but to accept your request for dismissal and transmit it to Starfleet." He turned to Julian. "I don't know what to say, Doctor. I know I haven't always followed Starfleet policy to the letter, but I don't think there's anything I can do to get you out of this one. You know the laws just as well as I do – probably better." He paused, as though debating his next words. "Do you mind if I ask why this is coming up now?"

Julian was just about to explain the whole sorry incident with his parents and Doctor Zimmerman when Amsha and Richard Bashir approached the office doors and were admitted.

His father was, as always, the first to speak. "Captain Sisko, we need to talk to you about Julian."

Sisko sighed. "Mr. Bashir, I'm afraid I've already spoken to your son and there really isn't anything I can do."

Julian knew that Richard was speaking again - trying desperately to convince Sisko that this was a mistake, that Julian had the same right to serve in Starfleet that everyone else had – but he'd stopped listening. There was nothing that could be done. He'd broken the law, first by his very existence, and then by the lies he told to get into Starfleet. For a moment he wished fervently that he could, by some miracle, be allowed to stay, but he quelled the rising hopes as best he could. _There's no point to it,_ he told himself. _The sooner you accept your fate, the better._

Julian watched himself ignore the conversation. He saw himself nod meekly to Captain Sisko, turn in his combadge, and leave the room. He saw himself walk slowly back to his quarters, wondering what to do with his life.

This was him. This could have so easily been him, been his life and his reality. He felt all of this – not just because of the strange dual experiences he was having, but also because he _felt_ all of this, this inadequacy and guilt and resignation. He remembered these feelings and the sense of helplessness which accompanied them. He remembered his readiness to let Starfleet take his life's work, and the feeling that if they did maybe he could stop feeling guilty about the fact that he had lied to them. It was hard to shake the feeling that maybe he didn't really deserve to be in Starfleet – after all, he was only an _exception_ to a very deeply ingrained rule. What right did he have to be a doctor?

Still, it was hard to watch himself just walk away from everything he held dear. Even as he recognized the feelings and motivations behind this surrender he felt himself wanting to rebel. For a moment, as his double walked down the hall to his quarters, they shared the same feelings – and not the ones he would have expected. There was sadness, of course, and regret, but there was also anger and guilt. How dare the Federation punish him for trying to save lives? What had _he_ ever done to them? _How dare he walk away from the chance to save lives?_ He felt guilty for not fighting harder, for not hiding better, for letting people die because he wasn't allowed to save them anymore.

Suddenly, Julian's awareness changed once again. Instead of watching himself slowly walk down the hall he was seeing a montage of faces and identities. With each one came a jolt of recognition – these were people he had helped, lives he had saved in the days after the one he had just seen rewritten.

Now they were dying. Not all of them died – some found other doctors to save them, other people to take his place – but many were not so fortunate. He saw them fade, losing consciousness because _he _hadn't been there to save them. He saw them get hurt, unable to recover without _his_ help. Odo was the one that hurt the most. It was Miles and himself who had found the cure to the disease, and without his involvement the cure hadn't been discovered. As he watched the changeling die slowly from the disease that was killing his people he realised the truth: he still didn't know if he really deserved to be in Starfleet, but he knew as surely as he knew anything that these people didn't deserve to die.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, the flow of images and memories ebbed and he found himself once more in a state of dual-consciousness – but a far stranger one than he had previously experienced. On the station, he had been experiencing things through his own eyes and through the eyes of himself as he might have been. Even though events had not been unfolding as he remembered them, he'd still had a definite feeling of being himself.

Now, however, he wasn't really sure if that was true. Whenever he focused on what the "double" of himself was experiencing, he felt as though he was looking at the world with blurry vision. Everything was less clear and made less sense. Still, the part of him which was Julian Bashir was as alert as ever, and it didn't take him very long to figure out what was happening.

Jules Bashir was at work, keeping inventory of some Starfleet warehouse in London. He had to keep careful focus as he counted and recorded numbers and types of supply, although he couldn't be sure if that was because the work required focus, or because the work was dull. He didn't know exactly what the devices he was keeping track of did, nor did he know exactly why they were important. What he did know was that it was a job – a way to contribute to society – and that it was very important to his parents that he contribute to society.

He knew that he had disappointed them somehow – he wasn't smart enough, didn't catch on to things the same way other people did. Still, he hoped that by doing all of this counting and recording he was making up for whatever it was that he'd never been able to do. He wasn't stupid enough to make himself believe that he was really making a difference, but he was also aware of his limitations, and he knew that this was about as good as anything else he could be doing. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like it things had been different – every once in a while he overheard his parents saying that they should have "taken their opportunity while they had it" but he never asked what they meant. He didn't really want to know.

In his angrier moments, Julian found it easy to blame his parents for his genetic enhancements. It was, after all, their decision: even if he'd been normal enough to eliminate the need for the procedure, he would not have been able to understand it. He'd always preferred to think that he'd had a chance without the enhancements; he imagined himself living a fulfilling life free of secret abilities and hidden guilt. Watching Jules stifle a yawn as he counted tricorders, however, he was forced to admit that this life was anything but fulfilling.

Given the brevity of the previous stage of this 'vision', Julian was surprised – and more than a little dismayed – when he found himself still watching Jules as hours passed and evening finally arrived. It had been a long day, and both Julian and his double had quickly grown bored of taking inventory and running minor errands. His coworkers had been nice enough, and dinner with his parents had been less painful than it was in Julian's world, but conversations never seemed to go anywhere important or engaging. Something was missing.

After a dinner spent listening to his father's new and promising business plans, Jules went outside and stared up at the stars. It was a ritual he often performed in the evenings, and although he wasn't really sure which worlds he was looking at, he found it reassuring to know that they were there. He'd never been off of Earth, and dreamed that someday maybe he would get to visit one of these other worlds that he saw each night in the dark sky. When he was in a bad mood the stars seemed to taunt him, reminding him that he was probably doomed to remain grounded on this one planet for the rest of his life. Today, however, had been decent enough, and he found comfort in knowing that there were rich and fascinating worlds out there for people to explore – even if it would probably be other people who explored them.

Julian did not see the same stars. Where Jules saw points of light and imagined worlds, Julian saw real places which he had visited and studied. He knew what was out there, and how much more there was that had still not even been thought of. As he watched Jules look up at the night sky and dream about the wonders he had forfeited to Julian he found himself caught up in a sense of melancholy.

This was not his world. This was not his life. This was not _him_. He knew now that, however acceptably mediocre this life of Jules' might be, it was not Julian's life and never could be. He had determined long ago, while Jules was writing down the three-hundred-and-first combadge, that he would never be happy in this sort of life. There was no real purpose or passion, and he knew he would never be able to make any sort of difference in the world from here. Even knowing this, though, he'd felt he should be willing to choose this life over his own. It was his obligation to Starfleet and to the Federation – this is what he should be.

But choosing this life would mean his own certain death. There was very little of himself in the man he saw getting ready for bed. The differences between them were so great – both on a molecular and personal scale – that they might as well have been two completely different people. His parents had made the choice to let Julian live in place of Jules, and if the Federation laws could be obeyed and the whole thing undone Julian would die so Jules could live.

But would that be the right choice? He was rapidly losing his ability to tell what was right or wrong in these situations. _There is no choice,_ Julian reminded himself. _This is an illusion._ Still, he kept following the train of thought, curious to see where it would lead. As a doctor, he had a somewhat supressed sense of self-preservation. The patient was the top priority in all cases. Federation law implied that the right choice was to forfeit his own illegal life to someone whose existence was sanctioned. Julian knew that, and respected it, and even agreed with it for the most part. But he was starting to realise that there may be a difference between what was right and what was better. He had already seen that there was more at stake than just his own life – by becoming a doctor he had taken the lives of his patients on as his responsibility, and he couldn't just ignore them for the sake of a trade he didn't even want to make.

He hated the idea that his own life, illegal as it was, could be worth more than that of Jules. _It isn't my fault! It isn't _his_ fault!_ _It isn't fair!_ But how could it possibly be otherwise? Julian had learned the hard way over his time at the station that not everything worked out ideally. People could be cruel and misguided; they could hurt others on purpose or by accident; and sometimes, they died when they had no reason to do so. Over the course of the war he'd seen too many unfair deaths to expect life to be otherwise. Even so, he couldn't help but believe, on some deep level, that things _could_ be otherwise. It seemed like an affront to everything he believed in if he accepted that, fair or not, the world was better with him than with Jules. But would it be even worse to place more value on the reasons for his abilities than on their impact?

He knew the answer. If he'd had some physical form here (other than the sleeping body of Jules lying on the bed) he would have sighed, bracing himself for the decision he'd imagined himself needing to make. As it was, all he could do was take a moment and clear his thoughts. _All right then,_ he said to himself, trying to shed the remainder of his reluctance. _I choose my own life, for its value to myself and to the rest of the world._

He hated even thinking the words, but he knew as he admitted them that they were the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

And then he was in a body again – his body but not his body, since he was still not back in the Bajoran temple. Despite himself, he was starting to feel a little worn out by the whole sequence of events. _What am I still doing here? Haven't I already sorted out enough? Yes, fine, I accept that I'm genetically enhanced and it's probably for the better that I'm in Starfleet. Can I go now?_

Apparently not. Why else would he be standing here in some military compound that looked like it dated back to the- _oh._ His budding suspicions were suddenly confirmed when he caught sight of the last person he'd hoped he would ever meet, and who had always lurked in the recesses of his mind ever since he was fifteen years old: Khan Noonien Singh.

"What..?" Julian wasn't really sure how to finish the question. _What are you doing here? What am I doing here? What is _here_ doing here?_ There was too much about the situation that he just didn't understand. He tried again with the questioning. "What's going on?"

Khan smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, like he would expect from Ezri, or one of the playfully mysterious smiles Garak was so fond of. No, this was a dangerous smile, a smile which seemed to say that this was a man with so much power he didn't care whether or not you could trust him. It made Julian shiver, despite the warm climate.

When he spoke, Khan's voice was smooth and articulate, far removed from Julian's own stammering. "I'm here to recruit you, of course."

"What? I'm _not_ joining you. You cause the deaths of millions of people. You're the _reason_ I'm not supposed to exist. Why in the world would I _join_ you?"

"Because I understand." Khan seemed unperturbed by Julian's anachronism. "I know what it's like to be better than other people. I know what it's like to be faster than them, to come up with the answers sooner and having to simply _wait_ for their puny little minds to go the distance. Haven't you ever gotten tired of lowering yourself to their level? You hid from them for so long. How many times have you wanted to push it, to show them just how much you can do?" He gave a quiet little chuckle. "How many times have you wondered how they get anything done at _all_ moving at that pace? I know you, Julian. I know what you can do and what you can become."

Julian paled. He still had no idea what was going on (other than an orb experience, obviously), but he did know that this discussion was going places he would really rather it didn't. _Relax, Julian,_ he told himself. _No one else can see or hear this, remember?_ Even keeping that in mind, however, the situation made him uncomfortable. "Khan" may have been off on many things, but some of what he said was alarmingly close to the truth. But the truth was what he was here for, and he supposed it was what he would have to give.

"Maybe sometimes it is frustrating," he admitted. "It was worst when I had to pretend not to be able to do things. Throwing a game of darts because a normal human can't play that well, for example, or botching a memorized date because a normal memory just isn't that good." He sighed. "And I suppose sometimes when I'm taking someone through a set of calculations I can't help but feel like they're moving just a little too slowly. But I always know that they'll get there in the end." He felt a flash of anger, and let some of it into his voice. "And it's not like I'm perfect, you know. I can't _do_ everything. I don't think I want to make the sorts of decisions Captain Sisko faces on a regular basis, and I know I can't possibly match Chief O'Brien in Engineering. I think faster than they do, but that doesn't make me _better_."

"Doesn't it?" Khan's voice was still calm and collected. "You chose to be a doctor. If you'd chosen to gone into engineering instead, do you really think Chief O'Brien would still be better than you?"

"Maybe he would be." He shook his head. "And maybe I would be, but it doesn't matter. There are all sorts of other factors to consider – personality, ethics, creativity-" He spoke more quickly now, getting warmed up to the topic. "And what about nonhuman species? Even with my enhancements I'm no match for some Vulcans." He was about to launch into a discussion of the mental capabilities of alien species when he realised that he was just trying to divert the conversation onto stable ground. "What I'm trying to say is, it's not that simple. You can't just say someone is 'better' than someone else."

He was quite proud of the argument, but Khan just looked amused. "Yes, you keep saying that. Is there a particular reason you're so keen to prove that you're no better than anyone else?"

"Because I'm _not!_" It was quite clear by now that the resemblances between this man and the real Khan Noonien Singh were only superficial – the real Khan would have grown impatient and killed him by now, if historical reports of his personality were anything to go by. Julian, however, certainly wasn't going to complain about the aberration. "Look, I don't want to be better than other people. Those who believe themselves to be superior are the ones who lead conquests and form empires. I don't want to do anything like that. Really believing in one's own superiority is the first step to becoming someone…" His voice broke. "Someone like you."

He stopped for a moment, thinking, and began to speak again as he finally started to sort through his thoughts. "You are the embodiment of everything I can't be. When people hear that I'm genetically enhanced, you're what they think of. You're what _I_ think of: a warrior, bloodthirsty and ambitious and eager for conquest. Your 'superiority' came through genetic enhancement, and because of that, I have to work harder to prove to myself and everyone else that _I am nothing like you._" He took a deep breath. "I'm a doctor. I want to help people and save lives. Maybe sometimes I do feel like I'm better than other people at certain things, but I'm not – I can't be – inherently better than them because that leads down a path I don't want to take." He spoke softly now, worn out from the entire experience. "I never asked for this and I don't know what I deserve anymore. I do know that I've helped people with my skills, which is more than anyone can say about you. There may not be an easy solution to the legality of my existence, but I do know that… my enhancements don't make me good or evil. My intentions do, and I only want to help.

For a moment, everything seemed to hang still as Julian and Khan stared at each other in the otherwise empty hallway. Then, with a suddenness that took him by surprise, he found himself _finally_ back in the Bajoran temple. He didn't know how long he'd been there, but judging from the numbness in his knees and the absence of the Vedek he guessed it had been a while. As he rose and stretched he briefly considered stopping by Ezri's quarters to talk about the experience, but he only gave it a moment's consideration. In truth, he was too tired to do anything but go back to his quarters and sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

"Julian, over here!"

Julian turned, locating the source of Ezri's voice in the busy replimat. They had agreed to meet for lunch and Julian knew that, although he wasn't under pressure to disclose anything, Ezri was eager to hear about the orb experience.

He could feel her eyes on him as he finally located the table and sat down. "So, how are you feeling today?" The second unasked question hung in the air.

He debated how much to tell her. "I'm well, thank you." He stopped, unsure how to proceed.

"If you don't want to talk about it…" Ezri said apologetically. "I think most Bajorans don't discuss their orb experiences with other people."

"No, I want to talk about it. I don't like keeping things secret unless I really have to." he sighed. "At first I think I was seeing the way my life could have turned out, if I'd left Starfleet or if I'd never had the enhancements. Or one of the many ways it could have turned out, I suppose. And then I was talking with Khan, but it wasn't Khan, and I did most of the talking, and…" He paused. "Oh, I don't know. The experience was so strange that I don't think I can do it justice."

"Then don't try to." Ezri smiled at him. "I don't need you to recount the entire experience. Are you feeling any better? That's what matters."

He thought about it. Was he feeling better? So many issues were still there – how should the law handle people like him? What did it mean that he'd been exempted from the law? Was it unfair that he was genetically enhanced? But even with all of these questions and uncertainties (some of which, he was sure, had no right answers), he felt more secure in his existence than he had in a long while. This was the life he had, and he was glad of it. He smiled at Ezri. "You know, I think maybe I am."

And then, for the first time since his initial conversation with Miles, he spoke about the enhancements. He didn't talk much about the orb experience – he still wasn't sure how to explain it to himself – but he did tell her about the paths his life _had _taken. He told her what he remembered from before the treatments, and of how he had found out about the enhancements as a teenager, and as he spoke he found himself surprised at how much easier it was now to talk about his past.

It was nice to stop treating it like a secret.


End file.
